Page 48 of Not Strictly Ballroom

My mum is in the room, along with Krystal and Andrew and another man I don’t recognise.

“I want to move the date up to the end of the month.” I hear him saying to my mum.

“That wasn’t part of the deal,” she spits out.

What deal? I look between them, but no one has noticed us standing there. I look over to Claire and she shrugs. She has no idea either.

“Well, it is now, or my daughter doesn’t dance.” The guy gestures towards Krystal, who places a hand on his arm.

“Daddy, not now. We’re due to start soon. I will?—”

“You’re not going anywhere until I have this sorted.” She takes a step back and I look over at Andrew to see his reaction, but his face is neutral, too bland, like he’s learned to stay out of whatever this is.

“Do I have a deal?” He turns back to my mum, who looks furious.

“We can’t move out by the end of the month. We haven’t even told Darcy yet.”

I’ve had enough.

“Told me what?” I step forward, Claire at my side, and they pivot as one to look at us. I register the shock on my mum’s face.

“You haven’t told him?” The mystery man sports a supercilious smirk.

“What’s going on?” I look at my mum, the man, and Krystal—who avoids my eyes.

My mum extends her hand to me, and I jump out of her reach.

“Mum?” An icy finger of dread runs down my spine.

“We were going to tell you after the competition,” she protests.

“Tell me what?” I’m still not getting anywhere.

“Doug Gregory.” The man introduces himself and holds out a hand. Gregory? Gregory? Where have I heard that name before? No, I haven’t heard it; I’ve seen it, every day as I walk past the hoardings near my house, the same name as the developer. Things start to click into place. I ignore his hand and turn back to my mum.

“We’ve sold the school.” She deflates into a chair. “We had to. I told you it wasn’t making any money.”

“But you said if I danced, if I won, I could save it.” I can’t believe that she’d do this. I certainly can’t believe my dad would.

“Dad—”

“Thinks you already know,” she says, sagging further. A flash of guilt punctures my thoughts, that I have so focussed on this, this fool’s errand by the look of it, that I haven’t spoken to Dad much recently, and he did try to say something to me the other night.

The enormity of what they’re saying has all my fears from the last few weeks crashing into my head with dreadful clarity. I’m homeless, jobless, with no prospects—or I will be very soon. I take a shuddering breath, refusing to bow down and let this happen. Fury spurs me on.

“Where do you fit into this?” I turn on Krystal as she’d clearly known all of this.

“My dad sweetened the deal if I would dance with you,” she says matter-of-factly. I hate them all.

“I didn’t think you were so cheap,” I say, and something painful flares briefly in her eyes before it fades again. I don’t want to know about their family dynamics, that’s their concern. I have my own problems to deal with.

“But why didn’t you tell me?” I direct at my mum, grinding out every word.

“I needed you to want to win. I wanted you to win. To have you win the Nationals, just once, would have been fantastic—an achievement. It’s a competition I never won myself. But you wanted to do your own thing, one that threw away your chances of winning. I did it for you.” I can’t believe I’m hearing this.

“Do you know,” I start, as calmly as I can manage right now. “If you had come to me, told me all this, asked me to dance to win—for you—I might have listened? But Julia was right: this was always your dream, not mine. You just sold it better to me. You disgust me.”

I turn away. I can’t look at her right now. I’m done with her. Finished.

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